


triptych

by verity



Series: tween wolf [33]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Demonic Possession, Friendship, Gen, Pack Feels, Werewolf Reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-19
Updated: 2013-05-18
Packaged: 2017-12-12 07:07:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/808717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verity/pseuds/verity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laura Hale looks pretty much the same as the last time Allison saw her, which was in a courtroom, and she's in uniform now, keeping with the law enforcement theme. </p><p>Allison can tell the exact moment when Laura recognizes her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. runs in the family

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blue_rocket_frost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_rocket_frost/gifts).



> Normally I post things separately, but I wrote all three of these this afternoon and they go together, so, surprise! multi-chapter tween wolf!
> 
> Thanks to Ashe for betaing and Mijra for her helpful feedback.

The text message from Daphne is just: _at mom's with derek, need you asap_

Laura's in her cruiser with the sirens on when she gets the second one. She doesn't stop to look at it until she's in the Martin driveway, but she already knows what it says, can feel it in her gut.

_need alpha you_

—

Whatever happened is over by the time Laura shows up. The kids are milling around, slow and dull-eyed, and John's moving through the crowd, taking their information and calling parents, routine end-of-drunken party shutdown. Stiles and Scott are embracing some girl Laura doesn't recognize, but Daphne and Derek are nowhere in sight.

John catches her eyes, mouths “all clear,” and nods toward Stiles. He shrugs in response to her shrug. Laura’s trying to decide what to do next when someone tugs at her sleeve.

"They're inside," Daphne's sister says. She's shaking, chafing her arms even though it's not cold out. "I want an explanation."

Laura wants one, too, but she's not going to get into that with Lydia. "Come on, then," she says. There’s nothing out here but crushed beer cans and the fading stench of terror.

In the living room, Derek and Daphne and one of Stiles's friends are sprawled out the couch. Derek's draped over Daphne's side, face pressed against her throat, anchored; the girl has her head in Daphne's lap and her eyes closed. Daphne's face brightens for a moment, then shutters when she glances at her sister. "Hey, look, we partied without you," she says to Laura. "Made it through okay, though Erica might need a doctor."

"I'm fine," the girl slurs against Daphne's stomach. Daphne has one arm around Derek's waist and the other curved under Erica's arm, pulling them to her. "Seriously. I just—I need to lie down for a while. Stiles can—where's Stiles?"

"He's outside," Laura says gently. She pulls over an ottoman, sits down in front of Daphne, touches Derek's leg. Somehow, despite everything, he's managed to fall asleep, his heartbeat slow and steady. Everyone's safe. Everyone's here. 

Including Lydia, who pushes Laura to the side so she can crawl over the ottoman and get in Daphne's face. "Tell me what that was."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Daphne says, heart fluttering.

"Stop lying to me," Lydia says. "You saw it, too."

"She's your creepy friend, you deal with it." Daphne glares at her. "I have my hands full. My actual hands, Lydia."

Lydia sighs, pulls back. "I don't know why I'm surprised that you only care about your weirdo fake family," she says. "Fine, I guess we'll pretend that never happened, I'm just _delusional_ , not that that runs in the family at _all_ —"

Laura grabs Lydia's shoulder. She has to work to keep her claws in. "That's not fair. You don't know—"

"That's exactly my point," Lydia says, shaking off Laura's grip. "I don't know anything. I'm not some little kid, you can't keep me in the dark about my own life—"

Daphne's eyebrows draw in. "Oh, don't tell me what I can or can't do, kiddo, do not even _try_ , you do not want to— "

Erica shifts on the couch, tucking closer to Daphne. "Need Stiles," she says. "Have to be back by 11."

It's 11 on the dot. "I'll call your parents, honey," Laura says. "Then Stiles can take you home."

—

After appeasing Erica's dad with a mixture of truth and white lies (yes, Laura is here to break up the party, but no, Erica and Stiles weren't drinking, Stiles gave some heroic medical attention and will be driving Erica home soon), Laura leaves Daphne and Lydia to scream at each other while Derek continues to sleep like a baby. God, she will never understand him.

Stiles is out on the deck still, with Scott, the two of them flanking the girl Laura didn't—

Oh, but Laura _does_ know her.

She's little Allison Argent, all grown up.


	2. sanctuary

Laura Hale looks pretty much the same as the last time Allison saw her, which was in a courtroom, and she's in uniform now, keeping with the law enforcement theme; Allison can tell the exact moment when Laura recognizes her.

Allison trusted Stiles and Scott, told, _believed_ , because she has nothing left to lose. There's no way Laura's going to grant her any mercy now. Maybe Laura will do it the human way, track down the bodies Allison's left behind and find some compelling serial killer narrative to explain it, tie up Allison's life in crime scene ribbon and red tape until Allison gets behind bars and some other hunter sticks a shiv between her ribs like Kate. It'll be easier if Laura does it like she should, like Peter, but Allison's death won't be that swift or that clean.

Still, Allison goes through the motions, steps forward and kneels in front of Laura. "Sanctuary," she says. "I beg of you, Alpha Hale, the right to remain in your lands untroubled. I need—"

Laura's hand comes down, curls beneath Allison's jaw and tilts her head up until Allison is looking right into Laura's red eyes. "Where's your mommy, Argent?"

Allison doesn't blink. "Dead."

"Wish I could say I was sorry," Laura says. "I'm not."

Everyone's cleared out now, except for Stiles and Scott, stiff and steady at Allison's back. Laura could do it here, now, do it with witnesses, but she probably doesn't want to push Scott that far. "That's fair," Allison says. She bows her head and bares her neck.

—

Stiles's dad comes in after Laura puts her hand on Allison's throat. She's just barely touching the skin, hand hovering like she's considering, but the Sheriff eyes them up and says, "Laura, I believe this is my jurisdiction now. She's a minor."

"Emancipated minor," Allison says. She's not, but she has some fairly convincing paperwork in the car. "I'm fine."

Laura doesn't let go. "She's the head of her family, John. I'm the head of mine. We have business."

"Business that I'm sure you could conduct with witnesses who aren't my teenage son and Scott," the Sheriff says. He smiles at Laura, closemouthed. "Don't you agree?"

" _Dad_ —" Stiles protests. "I don't—"

The Sheriff presses a hand to his forehead. " _You_ and I are having a talk later, but now is not the time. Allison, I'd like you to come down to the station with me so I can ask you a few questions. You and Laura can talk there, if you want."

"You don't have to go," Scott says, coming forward to put a hand on Allison's shoulder. She feels like a monster. She is the monster.

She can't even blame the demon inside of her; that came later.

—

The Sheriff sits them both down in an interrogation room, facing each other with only a table between them. "This is all off the record, now," he says, taking off his badge. "I'm not here as an officer of the law, because I'd have to arrest Laura, and I hired her three years ago instead."

"You're talking about how Laura killed her uncle," Allison says, waiting for Laura to flinch. Interestingly, she doesn't. "I was there for that, you know."

"You helped." Laura gives her a mocking smile. "You shot him. Your parents must have been proud."

"They were," Allison says, baring her teeth.

There's a long pause before the Sheriff sighs and says, "Well, we're off to a great start."


	3. slumber party redux

Stiles is totally badass and has everything completely under control right up until the moment Laura doesn't break Allison's neck for _oh my god carting a demon around_ and Dad whisks both of them off to the station. The next thing he knows, he's on the ground, head braced between his knees, Scott's hand a solid warmth on his back. Stiles groans. "I have to take Erica home. I have to—"

"Nobody's going anywhere for a while," Scott says. "Laura called her parents, I heard, that's going to be okay. You want to go inside? Pretty much everybody went home, Danny gave Isaac a ride. I'll get you some ginger ale if you want."

The empty space next to them where Allison should be thrums. "I want a beer," Stiles says. 

"I'm not getting you a beer, dude," Scott says, ruffling his hair.

—

There’s a demon inside Allison. Stiles knew demonic possession was a real thing, sort of, in the way you know colonoscopies are real—grownups talk about them, they sound gross, there’s a foreign presence in your body—but he never thought he’d run into anything like that in Beacon Hills, land of werewolf parking tickets and package delivery. When Allison turned up, Stiles thought she might be on the run from the hunter police, or the actual police, or her dad—something normal. Nothing that would chase a demon. Or put one in her.

—

Erica is in Lydia's living room, with Daphne and Derek and, weirdly, Lydia. "I'm think that Erica needs to call her parents and say she's spending the night here," Daphne says, eyeing Stiles when he comes in. "Neither of you are in any shape to drive."

"They could come get me," Erica volunteers, giving Stiles a small smile. She's sitting next to Daphne, face wan, a throw blanket wrapped around her shoulders, which is better than he expected. "I mean—"

"Yeah, that wasn't really a suggestion," Daphne says, patting Erica's arm. On Daphne's other side, Derek is snoring against her shoulder. Possibly drooling. "I am truly horrified to be the responsible adult here, but I don't feel so great about letting any of you loose on the world until someone who knows what the fuck is going on has debriefed you."

"That wouldn't be me," Lydia says. She's sitting in an armchair with her dog in her lap, still in her swimsuit; she doesn't look very comfortable.

Stiles sits down next to Erica and leans against her; Scott's still hovering in the doorway, uncertain. "Since when does my dad know what the fuck is going on?" Stiles says. "Because that's kind of news to me."

"Come on, Stiles." Daphne sighs. "How did you think you've managed to get away with sneaking out on the full moon for five years?"

"Does my mom know?" Scott asks, aghast.

Daphne shrugs.

"So what you're saying," Lydia says, raising her eyebrows, "is that there's some kind of possibly supernatural conspiracy among Beacon County law enforcement—"

"Oh, god, here we go," Daphne says. That seems to upset Derek, who grumbles in his sleep, head losing purchase on Daphne's shoulder. She shoves him back into place, scowling.

Scott, because he's Scott and this is an extremely stressful situation, pops his claws. Looks for pockets in his swim trunks. Finds none. Wolfs out.

Lydia _stares_. Then she gets up from her chair, says, "I hate all of you," and leaves the room, slamming the French doors to the backyard hard enough that the panes rattle.

"Uh," Scott says, scratching his chin, and then, because he's a gentleman and apparently also a glutton for Lydia's particular brand of punishment, "I guess I'll—deal with that?"

After Scott leaves, everyone's quiet for a minute. "Are you a werewolf, too?" Erica says at last, turning toward Stiles. She doesn't look afraid, just—excited, which makes something in Stiles's stomach go all flip-floppy with hope.

"Nope," Stiles says. "And this wasn't exactly how I meant you to, like, find out—" Yeah, no, he was planning on a PowerPoint presentation with Scott, who maybe could have led with the muttonchops and not the claws.

"Are you a witch?" Erica asks, grinning. "Is that how you can—"

Daphne interrupts, saying, "I can't tell if this is going to be the cutest thing I've ever seen or the most annoying. Why don't you help me out by calling your parents and making me some toaster strudel so I don't have to decide?"

—

They end up putting air mattresses and sleeping bags and couch pillows on the floor so they can all pile together. As much as Stiles wants to be home in his familiar bed with Scott crashed on the floor next to him instead of at the most awkward slumber party ever, it's probably better that he's here and distracted from worrying about what's going on down at the station, wondering how Allison got a demon beneath her skin.

Or how long the bandaid he put on it is going to hold.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [ladyofthelog](http://ladyofthelog.livejournal.com)


End file.
